Darkness Lost, Darkness Regained
by amour de vin
Summary: Written postHBP. After the events at the Ministry, Harry learns that grief and a lack of Occlumency skills can combine explosively. Slash, Dark!Harry
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I just play.

Harry blindly stumbled from the rotating stairs leading to Dumbledore's office to Gryffindor tower, still almost shaking with rage and grief. In the dim light of his dormitory room he changed into pajamas and tumbled into bed, wanting only to be left alone. Throwing his glasses onto his nightstand, he stared blindly up into his canopy, ignoring the small sounds of the other boys readying for bed. He lay there, looking blankly upwards, as sound gradually dimmed, and he was left alone with his thoughts, without even Ron's snoring to disturb him. Flinching from the thought of Ron, he was stuck with everything else: the veil, Sirius, the prophecy. My fault, everything. he thought miserably. Forcibly, he tried to shove it all away, block out reality, think of nothing, until slowly, he was able to fall asleep.

Awareness returned with a painful jerk. Harry opened his eyes to a sinister dream world; pinned in place by terror, he watched Sirius fall through the veil again, almost in slow motion as the sheer inevitability of it slowed time to a crawl. Trying to escape, Harry wrenched his eyes from the scene, wanting to be anywhere else but there. With a desperate mental twist, he found himself Elsewhere. A blackened abyss, strangely silent without his mental agonies. Thoughts gentled by the peaceful emptiness, he stood there, breath becoming less ragged, heart slowing, until finally his natural curiosity came to the fore. Wanting to see what his mind had conjured, he turned around in a slow circle, looking around, and finally up, seeing nothing but darkness. Looking more closely at the space around him, he realized that it wasn't a perfect blackness. At the very edge of his vision, there was a flaw, something seeping through a hairline crack in ebony. He walked toward it, drawn by a faint sense of familiarity, until it resolved into a faint line of green light. Slowly, he reached his hand up, the light brightened, until it seemed to reach out and lick his fingers with a cool flame, and suddenly he was engulfed.

Green flames ran over his skin, melted into his body, caressed his bones, reaching into his core, until finally, it seemed to accept him, retreating the way that they had come, leaving him tousled and warmed by what felt a bit like affection, if is was possible for a mind construct to have emotions. Returning to himself, he opened his eyes (when had they closed?) and realized instantly that he wasn't where he had started. Looking out is seemed as though a bubble of thin obsidian, illuminated by some unknown source, surrounded him. Wary now, he moved to retreat, stumbling a bit, and falling into what felt like an ice-cold river, which quickly engulfed him.

Thrashing around, he tried to escape, but as soon as his head went under, he was completely overwhelmed. Scenes swirled through his head, with sensations only partially removed.

: Shivering under a too-thin blanket, the smell of dust choking in the air, wooden slats poking into ribs, and a sense of such utter despair, with rage lurking underneath:

: Calculated indifference covering wary excitement while looking at a Hogwarts letter:

: Joy while standing in the Chamber of Secrets, seeing the basilisk obey for the first time:

:Sharp satisfaction, staring down at the body of his thrice-cursed muggle father:

: The beginnings of smug superiority, holding his first horcrux:

The memories continued, flooding Harry with emotion and sensation, and a soon overwhelming feeling of growing rage, first burning hot, and then slowly banking down into a cold, hard knot, as more and more pieces of soul were separated out, until the only thing left was madness. When he was finally confronted by the spectre of his own parents' death, along with the painful dislocation of fractured soul from body, Harry was able to finally wrench himself free, desperation clawing at him, trying to find any way out, reaching out and out and out, until finally, nerves screaming, he felt himself separate, leaving behind Voldemort's white-hot rage, and a certainty that it had been a fair exchange.


	2. Chapter 2

Conscious thought returned slowly, filtering slowly through what felt like layers of cotton and glass shards surrounding his brain. Trying to open leaden eyes, he twitched as the pain increased, and before he succumbed again to the dark, he heard a light, feminine voice call: Helga, come! I think he has returned!"

The next time he awoke, it was with a firmer grasp on reality. Head feeling much less like a shattered vessel; though still over-full, Harry lay there, content to reacquaint himself with a solid, physical state. The feeling of crisp cotton covering his body, and the warm glow of sunlight on his eyelids, proved that he was not over-damaged, and as he shifted to better enjoy the feeling of **feeling** again, he noticed an intrusion upon his quiet world. A light tingling covered him, and as he frowned in confusion, it intensified, until with a slight 'pop', it stopped and a bell ringed. Soon he heard the quiet swish of robes across a stone floor, accompanied by the soft rasp of leather soles, until they came to a stop at his shoulder, bringing the faint scent of roses.

"I know that you are awake, young man, you can open your eyes," a crisp voice stated.

Pushing down a nervous feeling, Harry cracked open his eyes, wincing at the light, until he could see a pale face above him, surrounded by wisps of golden hair escaping from a bun and bright blue eyes staring at him with interest.

"Ah, good. You certainly took your time returning. Quite strange." She pulled out her wand, and running a tingly blue light along his body, she frowned slightly. "You're in perfect health, and have been since you arrived. None of us could figure out why you couldn't wake up."

"How," his voice cracked, rusty with disuse, "how long was I out?"

"Over a week", she said matter-of-factly.

"Am I in St. Mungo's then?" he as disinterestedly, still distracted by Morpheus.

"No," she replied, looking at him again. "You're in the infirmary at Hogwarts."

"Oh," he said, blinking a bit, "you would think I would recognize it, seeing how much time I spend here."

With this her gaze sharpened, and then she turned, muttering something shooting a silvery butterfly off to parts unknown. Turning back to him, she summoned more pillows, propping him up into a sitting position, and retucking the blankets around his waist. As she finished this, a door across the room swung open, surprising Harry into waking up a bit more. Rubbing his eyes, he realized that he should not have been able to see as well as he was, but set this aside, as three people entered the room, walking briskly towards his side of the ward. Stiffening slightly at the guarded looks he received, he shifted slightly, unconsciously lowering his hand to find his wand as they came to a stop near the mediwitch. The man in green silk robes noticed, and raised an eyebrow in response. Harry flushed a bit, thinking, "Merlin, lets see how obvious I can be. Damned Gryffindorish habits."

Noticing the others, Harry turned to look at a burly man with a reddish mane, who was almost bouncing on his toes, questions coming faster and faster. "So Helga, he's awake? Has he said anything of use? Where he's from…"

"Really, Godric, do stop your prattling. You're like an over-eager puppy with a new bone." the man in green drawled.

Leaning back against his pillows, Harry smirked to himself. Regardless of the improbability of the situation, he now knew where and when he was. He was quite sure that he ought to be having hysterics at the very thought, but it seemed that he was cursed to have a life filled with strange adventures, and he was feeling a bit jaded by this point. He had to admit to himself though, that it was rather amusing to watch the original Slytherin/Gryffindor sniping, which seemed to be a lot more fun than the vitriol slung between his house and Malfoy's.

As they continued to talk over his head, Harry observed the two who most interested him: Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. They were a study in contrasts; Godric almost burly, resembling his symbol somewhat with his wild mane of hair and beard, and Salazar sleek and refined. Harry cocked his head to the side a bit, "He looks rather a lot like me," he thought with a bit of awe. "Of course, young Tom Riddle did as well. Just a bit strange.

He finally tuned back in to what was going on, as Ravenclaw finally interrupted the friendly bantering between Godric and Salazar, practicality obviously intruding. "Well, seeing as how he _is_ awake, wouldn't it be simplest to just ask him?" She continued muttering under her breath, "Really, if things were left to the two of them, nothing would ever get done."

"Well, really, if you want to ruin my fun…" Godric pouted. They all turned and looked at Harry, who was attempting to keep his amusement from showing.

"Well", he said. Looking at them, he cursed his distractedness, amusement fading. He wasn't entirely sure how much he should tell them, wasn't sure what would matter, if anything, and how much things might be changed by him being there. "Well," he began again, "I think that I have at least a general idea of what happened, but first, one question, if I may? Where was I found?"

Godric answered. "You were found in my tower. A group of my students woke up to you in their room a week ago. _How did you get there??_"

"Mmm," Harry hummed. He looked down at his lap, picking at the sheet with his fingers, biding his time. He wanted more information from them, which, he thought, if he frustrated Godric enough, he might get. Already he was reminded of Ron Weasley, with his impatience for verbal maneuvering.

"How did you get past our wards?" Godric demanded.

He was about to continue, when Salazar put his hand on his arm. "Godric, please. We don't need to tell him any more than he already knows."

"Well", Harry thought wryly, "there went that idea. I suppose Slytherin cunning doesn't work well against the original Slytherin."

"I am just a bit unsure of where to start, or what is relevant." Harry said as he looked up again. "I didn't get around your wards, because I was already within them. I am not really sure how I got here. It doesn't help that I was unconscious at the time," he added.

This time it was Rowena who stopped him. How can you say that you don't know how you got here if you know that you were already within the wards?" she queried.

"That is the difficult part," Harry said frankly. "I am a student at Hogwarts, I just don't go here at this time." Are you trying to say that you were here this whole time, and we just didn't notice you?" demanded Godric.

"Really, Godric," Rowena interjected, "that is a bit dim, even for you."

Harry couldn't help but smirk as he clarified, "I don't come from this time, but I do come from this place. I really haven't any idea as to how I was pulled through time, but knowing how my life goes, I will be pulled back at some point. I don't know what else I can safely say." He finished, adding a bit of frustration to his voice.

"Well," Helga said, "since you are here, and a student of Hogwarts, we may as well have you continue with your education. We will need to evaluate you, you look old enough to specialise."

At Harry's confused look, she clarified. "In that last three years students choose one area with up to two related subjects to focus on. This can lead to an apprenticeship, if so desired."

"Things sure have changed." Harry muttered. "Well, if we are going to have a discussion about my education, can we have it elsewhere? Preferably far from the hospital wing, and involving real clothing for me?" he asked, looking hopefully at the founders.

"I think that is reasonable." conceded Helga. She turned to the others and said, "Why don't you go, and I'll take him to the office once he's fixed up."

Harry grinned, and swung off of the bed eagerly.

"You really dislike staying here, don't you?" Helga asked as the others left.

"I definitely spend more time here than the average student." Harry said dryly.

She directed him towards a small chamber, where he gratefully took off the hospital pajamas, washed quickly, and then took a robe from a neat pile on a shelf. Fruitlessly he tried to tame his hair before joining Helga in walking to a well-remembered gargoyle. Harry had an almost irresistible urge to start naming off sweets, to see if it would open, and was surprised when it leapt aside after being scratched under the chin. Helga looked at him as they stepped onto the revolving stairs. "That won't work for just anybody, now," she said a bit sternly.

They stepped into the round office and took seats at the table provided, which held tea and an assortment of biscuits and sandwiches. After everyone had settled themselves, Salazar was the one to begin. "The logical place to start would be your name," he said simply.

Harry looked at him warily before replying, "Harry."

"Now," Salazar continued, "tell us about your schooling."

"I'm just about finished with my fifth year. My best subject is Defence Against the Dark Arts, though we have had some one different every year teaching it. This year, some one from the ministry, more interested in her sadistic pleasures than teaching, was the professor, and I ended up teaching Defense in the Room of Requirement. Potions is my worst subject. I don't know if that is because I am that bad, or because the professor hates my dead father. I think that I would like to see which it is." Harry said simply.

He sat back and sipped at his tea while the four conferred. Eventually they seemed to come to a consensus, and turned back to him.

"Harry," he said this with a slight twist of his lips, "it seems that you will be studying under me for Dark Arts and potions, and going to Godric for defence. I think that it would be best if this were treated as a formal apprenticeship, so that your contact with the students is minimized. You will stay in my quarters, and except for time spent with Godric for practical defence, you will be with me."

"Okay." Harry said, a bit dazed. "Oh, did my wand happen to make it here with me?"

"Yes it did." said Godric, and going to the desk across the room, he pulled it out of a drawer and handed it over.

"Thank you." Harry said, quickly putting it up his sleeve.

"Come then, and I will show you to our quarters." said Salazar abruptly.

Harry obediently stood up and followed him out of the office and down into the dungeons where Salazar stopped in front of a painting with a beautiful woman with gently waving snakes instead of hair. Glancing at Harry he hissed/Open.\

Harry laughed. "Not very creative, is it?" he asked, looking at Salazar.

"I thought that you might be keeping back more than the obvious," replied Salazar replied as he stepped through into the rooms beyond.


	3. Chapter 3

Unsurprisingly, Salazar's quarters had rather more green and silver than one might otherwise expect, as well as a fair amount of black. Thick tapestries graced the walls, preventing the cold from the dungeon walls from overwhelming the heat of a fire, and plush rugs were underfoot, making the chambers cozy and welcoming. As Salazar seated himself in one of the armchairs in front of the empty fireplace, he languidly waved Harry over to the other. "We can worry about your chamber later. Now, I would like to hear what you were unwilling to mention in front of the others, and, if you would excuse the bluntness, why you feel I am trustworthy."

"Well, the very short answer is that my problems begin and end with you." Harry said.

Salazar just sat back and quirked a brow in response.

"In my time I am on the opposite side of a war from your heir, a Dark wizard who tried to kill me when I was a baby. Obviously it didn't work, and the result was him being ejected from the physical plane, and a strange mental connection between the two of us being formed." Harry said, touching his scar. "Of course, this wasn't realized until I began school at Hogwarts, and he began his annual attempts to regain physical form and attempting directly or indirectly, to kill me in the process. In my fourth year he finally succeeded, and with physical form, our mental connection was even stronger. I would have visions of what he was doing, especially those events during which he experienced strong emotions. I attempted to learn Occlumency, which only seemed to open the connection further, until he was able to feel it, and send me a false vision, which I took to be truth. Because of this, I ran off in all idiocy on a fool's mission which ended in my godfather's death."

Harry took a deep breath, shaken by the devastating emotion connected to that statement. Breathing in, he let the emotions drop, smoothing his face of all expression. "Returning from that disaster to school, the headmaster saw fit to inform me that this wizard's continued attempts on my life weren't based on anger at failing the first time around, but a prophecy of which he only heard the first part. Based upon the incomplete version, he killed my parents and attempted to kill me, marking me as his equal in the process. The other part, which he did not know until I fell asleep that night, instigated the rest of this disaster. Apparently I am the only one who can kill him, or he me. With this and my godfather's death, I was completely incapable of shielding my mind before sleeping, even if I had known how to. I believe that somehow I was sucked into his mind, past his shields, and this time we shared memories."

Harry paused, trying to order his thoughts. "I think that the week that I was unconscious was necessary, so that I could try to work through all of this. I have over fifty years of someone else's life and memories inside of my head, as well as my own. I know what he knows, and I must assume that the opposite is also true, including the full prophecy."

Once Harry came to a stop, Salazar stood up and walked over to a cabinet, taking out glasses and splashing a generous amount of amber liquid into both. Coming back, he handed one to Harry and sat back down, slouching a bit. He stared into his glass for a while, idly swirling the liquid within, until he finally took a sip and looked at Harry.

"I can see why you did not want to tell the others this. It certainly makes education planning more difficult. You may well know more than I do." he said a bit dryly.

Harry finally took some of the liquid in his glass, letting what felt like liquid sunshine warm and soothe him, as his brain supplied 'Cognac'. "I will need to practice it all, as I don't know how it all with react to my magic. I think that another wand might be of use as well, something better fitted to what I now am."

"Ours certainly won't be the normal master apprentice relationship." Salazar said, "Though that may be for the best. With your combined memories I think that you won't suffer prejudices in either direction and thus view magic as I do, as being inherently neutral, with intent dictating purpose."

"I can see that for a lot of what I know, but what of, say, the cutting curse, or Cruciatus?" Harry queried, leaning forward.

Salazar's eyes gleamed. "You have hit upon the fundamental issue," he said. "I also think that you can easily explain that to yourself. How often did you have episodes of accidental magic as a child?" he asked, seemingly irrelevantly.

"Well", Harry said slowly, trying to see where he was headed, "I appeared on the roof of my school once, when I was being chased by my cousin, and that terrifically hideous sweater shrank until it would have only fit a doll, and of course I vanished the glass in the snake exhibit….ah. I think I see where you are going."

"And I think that you have enough power to utilise that knowledge. To consistently use just the intent alone, without spell or wand movement, requires a greater power reservoir, though not more power." Salazar said, looking rather pleased.

"How do you mean?" Harry said, a bit confused.

"It does seem a bit strange, doesn't it? I haven't really understood the theory behind it, bit it is not the sheer amount of power poured in that makes a difference. Someone who can't just can't because of their base power levels, but someone who can isn't drained by doing so."

"Well then, you can hardly say that I know more than you. If it works, then you are only limited by your imagination." Harry said. "I guess that is how potion-making works. It doesn't require 'foolish wand waving', as my professor once said, but the potions are sustained by the maker's innate magic.", he continued pensively.

"I think we will get on quite well.", Salazar said, smirking. "The others may underestimate you, which may be for the best, as, with the exception of Rowena, they tend to have a rather straight-laced view of magic. You can certainly get physical training from Godric without much difficulty, though with little subtlety, and we can just muddle through the rest, aligning your body with your memories ourselves."

"I really would like some training in potions," Harry said a bit shyly. "I certainly was never very good with them, and sadly your heir was only proficient, though I suppose that doesn't really matter if one has one of the best potions masters in the world as a minion." He continued, a bit slyly.

"Well, at least there is something that I can truly teach you." Salazar said with some humour. "Now, let us go and sort out a room for you."

He stood up, and with Harry following, left the sitting room for an adjacent hallway, opening a door at the end into a large, plain room with a wardrobe and bed hung with plain cream linens.

"Now, see if you can change this with intent." Salazar commanded.

Harry looked about, thinking of what might look good. With the stone floors, there wasn't much to change. "Might as well stay with the theme", he thought, laughingly. The bed hangings changed to pewter velvet and the bedclothes to a forest green silk. The rugs scattered across the floor changed to a pattern of silver-edged ivy on a black background.

"That will work well enough.", Salazar said, with evident humour in his voice. As he turned to leave, Harry asked, "What should I call you? And what would you call me?"

Salazar turned back around. "You noticed that, did you? Well, in public, Master would work best, though I would prefer Salazar in private. And, for you. Hmm. Heolstor, Helios in public."

Harry laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the school year passed quickly with the basics of sword training with Godric, which Helios did rather badly at, and reviewing the basic Dark Arts with Salazar. One weekend Heolstor went to Hogsmeade, and returned with a wand, twelve inches, yew and basilisk fang, that, when he first picked it up, made power flow through him sweet, dark and deep. He started to use it almost exclusively, only pulling out his old wand when in the presence of the other founders. When he had free time, most often Heolstor was found in the library, reading up on magics mostly lost in his time and practicing magic by intent.

The day after the students left for the summer, he entered the sitting room to see Salazar already at the breakfast table, cup of tea in hand. Mumbling incoherently, he sat down and poured a cup himself and quaffed it in silence. After his second cup, he looked at his table companion, who was watching him with some amusement. "I can tell you aren't much of a morning person.", he said, smirking.

"Not by choice, no, which is why I never join you in the Great Hall for breakfast.", Heolstor replied. Then, perking up a bit, "So, now that the little terrors are gone, what do you have in store for me?"

"Well, I think that we can finish up most of your review this summer, and if you like, you can probably sit for a Mastery at the end. Unfortunately, at least from what I understand of Godric's grumbling, you aren't doing nearly as well with him. He may end up giving up on pounding sword-sense into you, and switch over to another weapon, in hopes that you have talent elsewhere."

"Hmm", Heolstor hummed neutrally, reaching for a piece of toast, rather pleased with Salazar's assessment.

"Now, with all of the reading that you have been doing, have you found anything that interests you specifically?" Salazar asked.

"From what little I could find, Blood Magic. It seems that the wards around my family's house are blood-based, and the ritual that your heir used to become corporeal was as well."

"That would certainly work well with potions training." Salazar mused. Focusing on Heolstor, he said, "Blood Magic is, even now, considered marginal Dark Arts. Unscrupulous practitioners tend to use rather unwilling donors for the main ingredient, and…it is an inherently biased sort of magic. If you are serious about pursuing this, we will have to modify you a bit."

Heolstor looked at him questioningly.

"Most Blood Magic is potions-based, and if the user's blood is to be an ingredient, then it must be magically stable. This requires magic coming from both lineages.", Salazar said, a bit delicately.

"So that pureblood, half-blood nonsense has some basis in reality?" Heolstor said, a bit incredulously.

"For the most part, it makes no difference at all, really, but in this, yes. Just like other potions ingredients, the final product is the result of the interactions of the different magics available from each ingredient. Since blood is the binding or transformative ingredient in Blood potions, the magic available must be well balanced or things go wrong. Mudblood didn't start out as such a dirty term, if you pardon the pun. A muggleborn who attempts a Blood potion will end up with a cauldron full of sludge."

"So you can, in effect, turn me into a pureblood. Would this change anything other than my ability to do Blood Magic?" Heolstor asked, returning to the subject at hand.

"The ultimate result of my tinkering would be the replacement of half of your magical heritage. It shouldn't change your level of power, as you are already quite strong. It will though change the feel or effect of it. You may find some aspects of magic suddenly easier than before, or you may discover altogether new talents. It shouldn't change you physically, though you may do so later, if you wish.", Salazar replied.

He made himself another cup of tea while Heolstor ate his toast, and then continued. "It isn't a difficult thing to do, I can make the potion while you go play with Godric. I will also make a revealing potion, to explain any fatigue you may incur."

At Heolstor's questioning look, he continued. "Blood Magic is not thought well of. It would be best to not let the others now what we are about. The revealing potion will uncover or unblock any hidden talents that you may possess, which can be fatiguing. After all, I do want you to reach your full potential."

"Ah" said Heolstor, a bit blankly. "Bloody Slytherin mind.", he muttered.

Salazar laughed.

"Alright, I'll go play with Godric, as you said. Hopefully he won't kill me with his enthusiasm."

Helios walked out to the Great Hall to meet Godric, hoping that whatever they were doing today didn't involve swords. As if in answer to prayer, when he walked up to Godric, he was guided in the opposite direction of the sword-training salle, and ended up in a long room, one wall covered with mirrors, and targets set up at the end opposite them.

"I've decided that with your stature, swords are rather a lost cause. I think something a bit smaller might work better, especially in a fight with magic." Godric said briskly, going to one of the cupboards along the wall next to the mirrors and opening it. He plucked a few objects out, before turning towards Helios and throwing something at him. Automatically, he reached out and grabbed the shining silver object, before actually looking at it in startled realization.

"Ah, I thought this might work.", Godric said a bit smugly, as Helios stared at the simple dagger in his hand. "Now, see if you can use that eye for some target practice." He gestured towards the targets, and then quickly stepped out of the way.

Four hours later he was finally set free, arms limp with exhaustion. Moving quickly to escape Godric's enthusiasm, Heolstor was soon back into the safety of the dungeons, and was able to relax. He bathed quickly before emerging from his room in a simple robe to await Salazar. Relaxing in his armchair, he had just finished his first cup of tea when Salazar made his appearance, sweeping into their sitting room, looking pleased with himeself. "Ah, good. You're here. If you would please…" and he grasped two vials out of the air, one filled with a bright red liquid and the other a murky brown.

"Lovely." Heolstor said dryly, "And I bet they taste delightful and everything."

Salazar laughed, a bit wickedly, Heolstor thought, before handing them over. "Take the brown one first, that's the Blood Cleansing, and then the Revealer. You should lose conciousness pretty quickly because of the first, so make yourself comfortable. It would be best to let it work through before adding the second."

"Thank you, Salazar." Heolstor said seriously, before taking them and gracefully standing. "I think I will retreat to my room. We will talk in the morniing?"

"Aye, Heolstor. Good luck." Salazar returned.

Waking up was unpleasant. Heolstor's entire body ached, and as he slowly rolled over it felt as though every muscle screamed in protest. He snagged the Revealer and downed it, hoping for the best. Leaning back, he felt a growing heat spread through his body, releasing tension. It built up until it felt like he was in a sauna, and then a flash of pure fire, before leaving in its wake a feeling of lassitude and comfort. He basked in it for a while, before reluctantly dragging himself out of bed to pull on robes before going to find Salazar. It didn't take more than Heolstor entering their sitting room, and it amused him to see this evidence of concern, though nothing showed on Salazar's face when he looked up from the book he had been reading.

"Good morning, Salazar", he said quietly, coming to sit across from him.

"I suppose it is." Salazar mused, closing his book and setting it aside. "How are you feeling?"

"Rather well, actually." Heolstor said frankly. "The Revealer actually removed all discomfort that I felt upon waking." Looking at Salazar's expression, he suddenly felt more wary. "Why do I get the feeling that I should be worried, Salazar?" he questioned.

"Why, because you are intelligent, my dear boy." Salazar replied, a wicked smirk growing on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

Time passed quickly. By the end of the summer Heolstor had body and memory aligned, and Salazar had told him quietly that he could easily attain his Mastery in Dark Arts. It was another year beyond that before he was able to move beyond the theory of Blood Magic, as Salazar had finally declared his Potions ability up to snuff. Soon after he began to study Blood Magic in earnest, Godric declared himself finished with Helios. Done with the Founder whom he privately thought the most annoying, Heolstor retreated into his studies, spending much of his free time in the library, reading as much as he could of the magical arts lost to his time, and almost lost to the Founders'. Almost never seen by the students or professors, he was most often caught in the dark corners of the library, blank books and quill at hand.

Three years into his stay, Salazar informed him of his Mastery of Potions, with, not surprisingly, a specialty in Blood Potions. The fact that it was recorded only in Salazar's private journal, and the Ministry remained uninformed was trivial in Heolstor's mind, as he didn't exist in this time anyway.

A few days after the eleventh anniversary of his stay with Salazar, Heolstor exited their private potions lab in the depths of the dungeons to find himself almost colliding with the unmistakable figure of Draco Malfoy. Catching himself just in time, he hastily retreated into the shadows, and then silently fled back to whence he came. Warding the door against sight, smell and sound, he leaned against the door and proceeded to have a breakdown. He had not been prepared, though, he thought a bit hysterically, at least this time the transition occurred while he was conscious. Slowly he collected himeself, and pulled himself up from where he had ended up on the floor. Building barriers in his mind, he Occluded the terror and grief from even himself, knowing that it would be dealt with subconciously. Then, having fully regained himself, he looked over the lab, immediately noticing the stacks of books that hadn't been there before. 'Oh, Salazar.' He thought mournfully, before walking forward to see his own set of books, notes from his library raids, as well as a neat stack of Salazar's journals. Picking them up, he saw both work and personal selections, all from after he had left. Holding them tightly, he allowed himself a moment to grieve the loss of his closest friend, before tucking it away and shrinking all of the books, placing them in his inner robe pocket. Looking around once more, he noticed nothing else, and so, carressing the bench top one last time, in farewell, he turned and left the lab.

Heolstor knew that all too soon the wards would alert the Headmaster to his presence, as a blood relative of a Founder and sometime contributer to the wardings, and so swiftly made his way towards the one castle resident he thought that he could trust. Remembering, even after so much time, the exact location of Snape's office, he made his way through the twisting corridors of the dungeons, utterly silent and, to all intents and purposes invisible. He really had no idea what day it was, and was hoping to not run into any students, but assumed precautions were needed. Walking swiftly, he passed the Slytherin house enterance, and then up a bit, before the public labs and the potions classroom. There. The distinctive brass doorknob shaped like a snake. Stepping closer, he asked politely /Is the Potions master within/

The snake blinked its visible eye lazily before replying /Yes, Speaker. Would you like for me to request entrance/

/Please./ Heolstor replied.

Soon the door opened, revealing a slightly confused Potions Master, before his mask hardened. Just beyond him, Heolstor could see the curious face of Draco Malfoy, and felt a moments nostalgia, before quashing it to speak.

"Good greetings to you, Master Snape. Might I beg a moment of your time? I have a question regarding snakes."

"Might I ask who you are?" Snape replied, only a hint of his usual impatience showing.

"Another master such as yourself, though my work is recognized in much smaller circles.", he replied smoothly.

In reply the door was opened widely enough for him to enter, which he did. As he stepped out of the door's shadow, and away from Snape enough to see the rest of the room, he said, "I thank you for your time.", before turning to the door. /Dear snake, you needn't have been so protective of your charge's privacy./

/Speaker, you didn't ask./ was the reply.

Heolstor laughed as he turned to look at Snape and Draco Malfoy, both of whom looked a bit startled. He allowed them to look their fill before taking a seat on a silently conjured armchair. He knew that he wasn't much changed, though more than a decade had passed. He no longer had glasses, a problem fixed early in his Blood Magic training, and his appearance was that of a pureblood lord, but the changing of his blood hadn't changed his appearance over-much, occuring too late into his development to do much more than refine his features.

Picking a cup of tea seemingly out of thin air, Heolstor raised a brow at Snape and asked, "I am sorry to impose, but as my problem is related to a specialty of yours…." He trailed off, quickly scanning Draco, seeing that he hadn't gotten any more than he should, before Snape turned to gesture Draco out the door. After closing it, he warded it against sound and sight before sitting across from Heolstor.

Snape looked at him for a moment longer before asking intensely "What in Merlin's name happened to you, Potter?"

Heolstor grinned delightedly.

"What?" Snape snapped, startled.

"I knew that you would see who I was.", he replied simply. Taking a sip of tea, he continued. "To answer your question, I was pulled into the past by an unknown force, and spent over ten years there before being returned, rather abruptly. I assume that Harry Potter went mysteriously missing from his bed a few days ago?"

"Just yesterday, and it has been kept quiet. Unfortuantely, after Mr Malfoy seeing you, I think that has been lost.", Snape said with a bit of a bite.

"Draco got no more than he should have. If he should speak of our meeting, he will be able to give little more than a description and what I said before you ousted him." Heolstor said patiently. "It will work out well, one way or another. But, on to the reason that I am here. It is a bit indelicate of me, but I would ask you about the last war." Snape twitched a bit. "Would this war be better served if the Dark Lord were as he had been?"

Snape sat and thought for a bit before carefully replying. "If he were returned to his previous self, then it is possible that his obsession with your death would be lessened, allowing him to focus on other things. Then it would depend upon how his campaigns were planned, and how exposed the public would be."

"Hmmm", Heolstor said, deep in thought. Before he could come to a decision, he felt the tinlge of wards being broken, as did Snape, if his stiffening posture was any indication, beofre Dumbledore swept into the room. Snape looked at Heolstor and raised a brow, almost in apology, before saying "Headmaster, is there something you wanted?" with a bit of impatience.

"Nothing, my dear boy, nothing. I was just coming to see if you had heard anything…" he said as he turned to look at Heolstor. Seeing him, Dumbledore's bright 'trust-me' aura faltered, sputtering like a candle, and before it recovered, Heolstor copied it, subtly enough that the Headmaster wouldn't notice over his own.

"H-Harry?" he queried, recovering.

"Yes, Headmaster." Heolstor said, secretly amused. There was some enjoyment to be had from startling one of the most unflappable men he had ever come across, after all.

Rather bviously gathering himeself, Dumbledore asked, "How is it that you come to be the way you are, my boy?"

Harry took a sip of tea as Snape sat back down. "Well, last night, I suppose, I went to sleep and woke up in the past. I don't know by what mechanism it occurred, though I have suspicions that the castle itself was complicit. A little more than eleven years later, I walked out of my lab back into this time."

"Why did you come here?" Dumbledore asked, clearly trying to politely ask what exactly he had been thinking to come to his most hated professor.

"Well," Heolstor said smoothly, "I did not want to risk a journey across and up the castle to find you. In this age it is not safe as an apparent stranger."

"Perhaps you would join me now then?" Dumbledore asked, twinkle at full force. "I am sorry Severus, but as our problem is cleared up, I am sure you can forgive me for leaving you.", he added absently.


	6. Chapter 6

Two hours later found Heolstor descending into the dungeons, fury warring with black humour. 'I guess it didn't take as much painful rationalising as I thought' he thought to himself wryly. As he fingered the objects in his pocket, he thought that he had a good chance of surviving his new plan, and perhaps he would even gain a family out of it. Coming upon Snape's door, the handle recognized him and silently turned, allowing him to slip in. Snape was still at his desk, grading a pile of parchments.

"I see that you are still allowing your sadistic side free reign.", Heolstor said with amusement, letting his worries drop.

His head jerking up, Snape looked at Heolstor darkly before growling, "So it seems that you have grown even more like the Headmaster in your time away, adding entering without an invitation to your list of annoying traits."

Gracefully flopping down onto a conjured armchair and swinging his hair out of the way, he replied, "Well, as I haven't begun to offer muggle sweets to anyone who comes my way, and haven't lost all sense of sartorial taste, I think that we are all still safe."

Snape smirked. "I suppose then that you are tolerable in comparison. Why is it that you have seen fit to grace me with your presence again? I would think that you would have preferred to return to your tower to reassure the other lion cubs of your good health."

Heolstor abruptly sobered. "I have been given this evening to recover my equilibrium, before returning to my former place."

Snape opened his mouth, but before he could say anything he flinched, and pressed his hand to his left forearm. Getting up, he said, "I am sorry," with all apparent sincerity, "that I must leave so abruptly, but I am called."

As he moved to leave the room, Heolstor got up quickly and placing his hand against the mark to calm the burn, said plainly, "Take me with you."

At Snape's incredulous look, he added, "I have a few things to discuss with the Dark Lord, ad this is the easiest way to do so. I could go hunting through our connection, but I am running out of time, as are you. Let us go, before he considers you too late to be forgiven."

Snape reluctantly allowed Heolstor along as he walked swiftly from the dungeons, through the castle and past the wards. Grabbing him by the arm, he said tersely, "I expect that you can handle side-along?" before disapparating.

They landed outside of what Heolstor recognized as Malfoy Manor. As they walked quickly towards the front gates, their robes transfigured, Snape's into the traditional Death Eater garb and Heolstor's into the formal Slytherin robes of green-shot black silk. Snape hastily transfigured a white mask while Heolstor pulled out two signet rings and placed them on his right hand. The front doors opened silently as Snape placed the mask on his face, and then turned to look at his companion, who replied to the unspoken question, "Always start as you mean to go on."

They traversed the manor quickly, surprisingly not being joined by others, until they finally came to one of the smaller formal rooms. Snape entered first, swiftly going over to Voldemort and kneeling to kiss his robes, apologising for his lateness. Feeling Voldemort's anger, Heolstor silently placed a shield around Snape before swiftly entering the room. He walked towards the frozen tableau, saying, "Please do not blame him, for I was the reason for his delay." Privately he almost cackled in glee, his appreciation for the overly dramatic moment, something to be blamed solely on Salazar, unrivaled. Snape remained utterly still in front of the Dark Lord, who sat in a throne-like armchair with only Malfoy in attendance. As Heolstor neared them, Voldemort finally stirred and demanded, "Who are you, and", he turned to Snape, "why Severuss, did you bring him?"

"I did not give him much choice in the matter, and I suppose you could call me…..family." Heolstor said, coming to a stop behind Snape and placing his right hand on his shoulder.

Snape quailed a bit beneath Voldemort's glare, and Malfoy seemed to have frozen completely, which didn't, Heolstor thought amusedly, detract from his looks in the slightest. 'At least I will have ready amusement.'

/I have come to perhaps return what belongs to you, and to discuss the future./ Heolstor hissed.

Voldemort's eyes widened. /You! I felt you two nights before. Do you not think it is criminally stupid of you to come to me when I know the prophecy in its entirety?/

/How do you think one of us would be defeated, Dark Lord? 'Neither shall live while the other survives.' I have thought on that for more than ten years, and I do not believe that either of us must go down in a blaze of glory./ Heolstor replied.

/Ten years? What sort of trouble did you fall into this time, little lion?/

"I have not been a lion in many years, Dark Lord.", Heolstor replied, startling the other two in the room. "But enough of that, I think that your other associate here has an inkling of who I was, and even if he hasn't, I am tired of Snape kneeling here. My knees ache in sympathy."

Heolstor stepped away from Voldemort a bit before conjuring a chair and making himself comfortable. As Snape stood and moved to stand on Voldemort's other side, Heolstor reached into his pocket and removed two objects. He held them carefully and said, "You may not appreciate the gifts that I bring, but I thought them safer with you than where I found them." He focused a bit, smoothing his hand over each object, releasing what they contained, before offering up a ring and cup to Voldemort. He saw a deep golden glow as Voldemort's soul reunited, and reaching out along their connection, he was able to feel the return of some semblance of sanity.

Looking into Voldemort's eyes, Heolstor said simply, "He has started hunting. One is already lost beyond recovery, but I think it would be best to gather the others closer to you."

After a moment, Voldemort replied. "How is it that you come as you are giving such a warning?" True curiosity coloured his voice.

Heolstor glanced at Malfoy, who was only just recovering his aplomb. Malfoy noticed his regard, and when he replied his amusement was obvious. "You know the beginning, with our uneven exchange. What came next I only know the result of, and not the process. I woke up to find myself in the infirmary being cared for by the owner of that cup." Harry inclined his head towards the object in Voldemort's hand, before tucking his hair behind an ear and continuing. "I spent a little over eleven years there, residing with Slytherin."

At this, interest, and a disguised longing, flared in Voldemort's eyes, though his face remained impassive.

"I earned my Masteries, though you own the only documentation, as well as studying that which even then was viewed with some……wariness."

As he leaned back into the embrace of his chair, Heolstor added, "I believe that will prove to be some use to you, and perhaps pay my inadvertent debt."

"I cannot think that He would have taught you such weakness." Voldemort said, emphasis obvious.

"The duty one has towards family and vassal cannot be a weakness, Dark Lord." Harry replied simply.

Voldemort's visage darkened, before he said stiffly, "And I somehow fall under that duty?"

"Have you ever wondered how your family came to be named Gaunt?" Harry asked obliquely.

Voldemort, his anger derailed, looked at Heolstor strangely, who continued. "What is necessary to successfully perform Blood Magic?"

"Heolstor." Voldemort said dumbly, comprehension dawning. "That is what you meant. A very tenuous connection indeed." Then, more sharply, he added, "And this you will use to complete the ritual? That could be repayment in full."

"You have read well, Dark Lord." Heolstor said, impressed. To have remembered the name of one of his ancestor's apprentices, from the one journal that Voldemort had possession of, was quite a feat.

"My lord," Malfoy's voice was hesitant, "might we know…."

Heolstor glanced at Voldemort with wicked amusement before answering smoothly. "Rights of succession, Lord Malfoy. Salazar created a pretty problem for his descendents with Blood Magic. The name Slytherin lay fallow for too long before time righted itself. By blood, I am, what?"

He looked to Voldemort, who was obviously now seeing the humour of the situation, "Your fifteen times great uncle?"

Voldemort added, "And looking rather good for all that, too.", before laughing.

Heolstor smirked, and into the shocked silence asked, "I assume that there is a potions lab that I could make use of here? Phoenix tears would also be useful."

"Certainly." Malfoy said smoothly, recovering.

"I should return shortly, and then I will answer as to why I came here." Heolstor said, standing fluidly. Pondering which potion to use, he continued pensively. "It might be easiest if you were to accompany me, so that we may spill blood in private."

Malfoy escorted them to a lab and bowed them through the door before returning. As he left, Heolstor succumbed to temptation and watched him until he turned a corner. Walking fully into the lab, he noticed Voldemort's regard, and raising a brow, admitted, "He is beautiful.", before getting a small silver cauldron out. He added a small measure of spring water before placing it over a very low flame. While waiting for it to boil, he went to the storage cupboard and returned with a handful of small glass jars. He checked the water, then added a pinch of hellebore, stirred three times widdershins, then added two whole cloves, five seconds apart. Then, stirring in figure eights, he added seven drops of phoenix tears, removed the stirring rod, and doused the flame.

He could feel Voldemort's repressed curiosity, and said, while finding a silver athame, "All Blood Magic, whether ritual or potion, is inherently simplistic. The Blood is the binding agent, the catalyst, and the heart of the magic." He pressed the blade to his finger, slicing the flesh easily, and added fifteen drops of blood before healing the cut, and licking off the remaining blood. "In one minute, please ad five drops of your own blood, and the drink."

Almost an hour after they had left, Heolstor and Voldemort returned to the sitting room where Snape and Malfoy waited. He had been a bit surprised at how closely they resembled each other, and the shocked silence that greeted their entrance was gratifying. Smirking a bit, Heolstor sat, well pleased with his efforts.

After a minute, Heolstor looked at Voldemort and said, "To answer your earlier question, he wants me to fully return to my former place, under glamours, at least until you have been defeated. To return for my sixth year after the usual stay at my family's" and here his tone named them anything but, "and then he has plans for me to put my admittedly appalling skills with a sword to work by slaying you with Godric's. He was as manipulative as ever, though I could hardly have expected less, and made no mention of your….resistance to death. I attempted to find out whether any other option than that of a duel to the death would be acceptable, but he was quite adamant. I decided that I had a greater chance of surviving the prophecy with you. I admit to not having much of a plan for surviving him." Harry admitted frankly.

"I think that at this point, it can be said that you can pull out of the war with impunity, at least from my side, Heolstor. The prophecy, after all, is fulfilled. Harry Potter is dead." Voldemort said, his now-green eyes thoughtful. "I think that you are changed enough physically to hide in plain sight, if you didn't make your former identity known beyond this room. You could certainly be passed off as my son, or some such." He paused. "It would probably be best if you were to play the obedient Golden Boy until we can arrange Harry Potter's defeat."

Heolstor grimaced and in response conjured a pair of black-framed glasses, while shifting to a younger version of himself. Placing the glasses on his nose, he said, "I should probably return before my absence is noticed. I will have enough difficulty as it is.", before pulling into the darkness and silently apparating to the school gates. Shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably, he started the walk up to the castle.


	7. Chapter 7

"My dear Lucius," Voldemort purred after Heolstor's disappearance, "whatever is that look for?"

Lucius turned towards his newly transformed lord, removing the distaste from his expression. "He was a most obnoxious child, my lord.", he said, discomfited by the knowing look he was met with.

Voldemort sobered and gestured to them both to sit before saying, "You are my two best minds. Tell me your impressions of our young friend."

"He is very different, my lord." Severus began. "He came to my office first, and treated me as an equal. When Dumbledore showed up, as he does, Potter manipulated him with easily as much skill as Dumbledore usually shows. He certainly did not show as much power in front of him, that I saw, as he showed here. He likened his mastery to my own, which seems a bit unlikely considering his past performance in my class."

Feeling a bit curious, Voldemort reached out along their connection, as he had done countless times in that past year, and was met with what felt like a thick, dark fog, which parted at a touch. Heolstor? 

He felt some startlement, and then, I had wondered whether the weakness was on both sides. It seems that our connection is very deep indeed. But, that is not why you are here. 

Severus was wondering about your comment on mastery. Voldemort felt a silken glide of laughter.

Perhaps I was a bit vain to compare my work to his. My specialty in his field is Blood Potions, and beyond that my talent is rather ordinary. Dark Arts, though, I can claim some expertise. After all, you did read of my work in Salazar's journal. 

Feeling Voldemort's surprise, he returned with some sorrow, I have his others, and I am mentioned often, especially in the early years after my departure. Cool regret, and then, Do return if you like; I fear that otherwise I will have a dearth of intelligent conversation. 

Voldemort then felt being gently pushed out through the fog again, before returning fully to his own mind. Looking at his concerned companions, he said lightly, "He says that he has no great talent in potions beyond those related to Blood Magic, but I have some record of his work in the Dark Arts, in a journal of Slytherin's. He has also mastered Occlumency and Legilimency."

"His silent and wandless casting are impressive.", added Lucius. "He also has discovered his metamorphmagy."

"Along with Blood Magic. It seems as though he has specialised in a number of esoteric and almost lost fields. He also performed feats that I had thought impossible. Formidable."

At that, Voldemort let it rest, wanting to ponder the enigma his young former adversary had become.


	8. Chapter 8

It wasn't until a week later that Voldemort heard from Heolstor again. Severus had reported that he had reappeared at breakfast the morning after their talk, and smoothly handled the resulting curiosity, before taking the Hogwart's Express back to London, and returning to the care of his relatives. Four days into that stay, Voldemort was startled from his planning session with Lucius by a voice filled with equal parts rage and frustration. I apologize for bothering you, but I must beg for some assistance. There has been an…incident, and I find myself in need of the makings for a golem. I am holding the wards, so if you apparate to me you won't be detected. He then cut the contact to the bare minimum needed, removing all possibility of reading his emotions.

Voldemort, intrigued, quickly gathered what was needed and brought Lucius with him to Heolstor's side.

They found themselves in a cramped, depressing bedroom. A thin-mattressed bed was shoved into one corner and a desk with a broken leg in another, but what immediately drew the eye was the blood splashed liberally over all four walls and the floor. The only surface not covered was Heolstor himself, in his true form, who had turned to look at them as they appeared, eyes glowing with power. When he spoke, the air itself seemed to vibrate with it, and Voldemort felt Lucius shudder.

"I fear that the wards are a bit trickier than I had anticipated. If this is done quickly, then the magic won't be noticed. I would suggest that you stay away from the window, as I haven't anything to spare for an illusion. My watchers have been particularly diligent, in some things."

"May I ask what the golem will be replacing?" Lucius asked, a bit hesitantly, as Heolstor began to call blood from the walls to mix with the clay that his lord had brought.

A bit absently, as he began to pour power into the runes he was inscribing, Heolstor answered: "My former uncle. I may have overreacted a bit to what was his typical behaviour. I had forgotten, and so had little more than the usual protections up."

Finishing, he looked directly at Lucius, and being the full focus of that gaze was almost too much. "I have rather grown out of accepting deprivation and corporal punishment."

Pricking his finger, he turned back to the golem and wrote the final rune, breathing life into it. He then directed it out of the door, shutting it before releasing control.

Turning to the two men, Heolstor suddenly smirked and said, "Do you have any use for some muggle blood? Perhaps an army of ill-tempered muggles would help you take over the world……no?" He shrugged a shoulder, and the blood was gone, leaving pristine, if dismal walls behind.

"What of the others who live here?" Voldemort queried.

Licking his finger clean, Heolstor replied: "Gone for the day, which is probably a good thing, though ultimately unsatisfying."

At their questioning looks, he added, grinning wickedly, "This isn't my normal sort of entertainment, but I should have liked to have made it a complete set. Blood can be very…satisfying to spill." At their reactions, he laughed delightedly.

"Before you disturb us further," Voldemort said dryly, "I do have two more objects for you."

Heolstor's face lit up, before sobering a bit in thought. He sat down on the bed in the corner, and waved his hand, conjuring two chairs for his guests. He finally spoke.

"You didn't happen to retrieve them from any place special, did you?"

Voldemort answered as he handed over a bracelet and milky stone, "No."

"Well, I've been thinking about our Dumbledore problem, and as it is only the beginning of the summer, I would like to see how my idea might pan out." Heolstor said, passing his hand over the objects as he had done to the others, releasing the pieces of soul. He discreetly checked on Voldemort's condition, which appeared to now be almost as good as when Tom Riddle had still been in school, before continuing.

"I left untraceable facsimiles behind when I left Dumbledore, protected in the same manner. It might be nice to see how close he comes to killing himself off attempting to pick up the pieces. Surely we could come up with something creative for these two and have it bruited about for him to pick up."

Thinking about it a bit, Voldemort finally replied. "It is more remote than I usually enjoy, but the amusement factor is rather high."

"It is certainly better than using his death as a trial for proving your future minions' loyalty."

At Voldemort's look, he continued. "I know how you thought, and I believe that there are better ways of achieving the same ends. After all he is Slytherin."

Ignoring his look of confusion, Heolstor turned to Malfoy and said, "Lord Malfoy, I am finding the thought of spending more time here rather intolerable. Could I possibly impose upon you temporarily?"

A bit startled, Lucius nonetheless replied swiftly, "It would be a pleasure."

'Well then," Heolstor said briskly, and taking out his wand again, he sliced deeply into his palm and formed a replica from his freely flowing blood, "shall we go?"


End file.
